


Ties

by legallyblack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Oops, Stand Alone, just a quicky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legallyblack/pseuds/legallyblack
Summary: See Ties, A 30 Year Progression Through The Life of Hermione Granger, ages 5-35
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 9





	Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Lol this isn't a plot story, but just something I wrote that really captures Hermione.

Imagine a girl, dark brown eyes and bushy hair, running around the lovely house of her affluent parents. She’s five, and has recently developed a habit of jumping. Her parents are concerned...their normally careful and wary toddler has now taken to jumping off of stairs, her little bed, the couch. Normally she lands on her feet, just fine. That is, until one day they’re at the park, on the swings. While her dad is convinced she’s buckled in, he doesn’t realize that she’s not until he looks away for 3 seconds and turns back to see his daughter swinging off above the trees. Her mother screams, he yells, but instead of crashing to the ground in a heap, she slows midair, almost  _ floating, _ swaying gently to the ground. A freak accident, they think, in shock. An accident, that’s all.

Imagine a girl, 9 years old. She sits alone at the school playground, her nose stuck in a chapter book. Off to the side, the other girls laugh and pull faces at her. She ignores it. She didn’t have to worry about losing friends, she hadn’t any. A part of her wants to pretend that she likes her solitude, but the other, larger part that she liked to keep hidden deep down, wished for friends.

Imagine a girl, now 11, standing in utter shock next to her equally shocked parents in their living room. A kind but stern woman in odd emerald green robes explains to them that she is special...different…magic. Is this a cruel trick, she thinks? It can’t be...she could have sworn there was a cat roaming around her garden earlier that had the exact same eye patterns. 

Imagine a girl, still 11, now starting the most stressful and exciting journey of her life. She still doesn’t have any friends, but for a while she forgets about this, because the new world in front of her is too much to take in. She dives headfirst into her classes, the spells, the potions, the books. THE BOOKS. The library alone would have been enough for her to stay here in this castle forever. 

And now imagine that a miracle happens. The tall ginger boy and the shy boy with glasses...actually like her. Well not at first, but in due time. She has  _ friends. _ And imagine a girl, so used to being alone, making herself a promise to keep these friends if it’s the last thing she does.

Imagine a girl, 12 years old. She gets the first taste, in this new world of hers, of the prejudice against her and her “kind”. She doesn’t understand. She’s just as good at magic, isn’t she? Much better than the platinum haired boy who had insulted her. Later that year, as she leaves the hospital wing for the first of many visits, she decides that maybe her parents don’t need to know about the petrification incident. She didn’t want to be taken out of this new world of hers.

Imagine a girl, 13. The voracious hunger to learn more about magic still hasn’t left her, and she breaks the rules of time to achieve it. Her loyalty is tested, and she ends up alone for 3 months. The second her best friends stop talking to her she’s brought back to 4 years ago, alone at the playground. Only now the playground was the school grounds, and she couldn’t cry to mum and dad.

Imagine a girl, 14 years old now. She’s tired of being, well plain. She’s finally noticed by a boy. She gets invited to the ball, and for the first time in her life, she truly feels  _ pretty. _ She can’t understand why her ginger best friend is so upset about it.

Imagine this same girl, 15 years old. Her school is threatened by the magical government, and she can only stand by and watch as her best friend deals with the brunt of it. She uses her cleverness to come up with an idea for an army that can continue to stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. 

Imagine a girl, 16. Her intelligence is questioned by an old book. She is no longer the best at every class, and it angers her to no end. The atmosphere is getting dark, she needs to learn to move her body through the literal air just with her mind, and to top it all off, like so many firsts she’s faced in this world of hers, along comes heartbreak. Like a physical wound, she stops and watches the boy she’s loved since the beginning forget her to date someone else. In this same year, the headmaster and protector of her academic world, and quite honestly the entire world, is killed. She knows right then and there that she has to do whatever it may take to protect this world she loves so much.

Imagine a girl. 17. Years. Old. She’s not even an adult and yet is thrust into a brutal war with her best friends. It becomes exhausting, she realizes, to fight for a world  _ so very hard  _ only for that same world to hate her for where she comes from. She spends almost 9 months on the run, relying on her intelligence and books, of all things, to face the obstacles ahead. It’s at the apex of this internal battle that she is quite physically reminded of who she is. At night, she stares at the slur harshly carved into her arm, like a crude reminder of the place she holds among the people she has sacrificed  _ so, so much _ for.

And then they win. They win the war. In the hours of battle and running and hiding and spell casting, it is only at the end that she realizes the boy, no man she loves has been there the whole time, waiting for her. 

Happiness wouldn’t come immediately. It takes weeks, months, and some people even years to recover and move on. The dead are buried, the explanations given, and reparations made. 

Imagine a woman, 20. She went back to the school for her final year, because  _ of course she does. _ She works in the ministry as a healer, drafting legislation to help the marginalized who couldn’t help her. 

Imagine a woman, 22, saying “I do” to the tall ginger man under the altar. It’s funny, because everyone in that wedding would have confidently swore that these two would have gotten married much earlier if they could have.

Imagine a woman, 25 years old now, bringing a little girl with bright orange hair into the world. She wants to make sure that this bundle of joy never, ever feels out of place in this world of theirs.

  
  


**Now imagine Hermione Granger, 35, walking through the packed ministry building, her heels sharp and her head held high. As she reaches the lobby, she looks out at the thousands upon thousands of witches and wizards who have come to see her inauguration as the new Minister of Magic. To her left, she sees Ron and Harry smiling with tears in their eyes, because they always knew she would do it. As she remembers the moments it took to lead up to this moment, she reaches into her purse and pulls out, to everyone’s shock, not a wand, but rather a small firework sparkler.**

  
**And Hermione Granger, knowing full well that she could have a magnificent fireworks show in seconds with her wand, proves, to the entire Wizarding World, that she is never cutting ties with her past. Her normal past. Her** **_muggle_ ** **past.**


End file.
